Romance of the Un-child
by Major Plothole
Summary: Takes place during the last parts of the Skyrim Dark Brotherhood questline. If you haven't finished it, be warned there are spoilers. A deep fondness grows between the Listener Dartagne and Babette, the childlike vampire - but will it become more or will they allow their fears to get the best of them? Rated M for violence, language and suggestive themes.


No, it couldn't be. They couldn't have found them! HOW DID THEY FIND THEM!?

Dartagne Le'miode clambered down the road towards the Falkreath Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. Loads of imperial soldiers were just waiting for him. He paused, he had to think rationally, rationally. Rationally. Rationally. Rationally…_ come on think rationally!_ His mind screamed at him as the bow Gabriella had stashed for him during the wedding assignment trembled in his hands. Or was it he who trembled? The mighty assassin, trembling like a wee babe.

And why shouldn't he? All he knew was within those walls, for almost a half year he'd been with the Dark Brotherhood, worked beside them, shared in their defeats and triumphs, cracked morbid jokes and each one of them was near and dear to him. The old man Krex, Gabriella, Nazir, shit even Arnbjorn, that asshole. Then the thought of the not so young Babette made him focus. He didn't like killing non-targets.

But for Babette…

The few guards in front of the sanctuary were dispatched with ease, he tried to not stare too hard at Festus Krex. Gods above he needed to get the man down from there, but Festus was dead, he could wait a little longer.

"Sorry old man.. I'll be back for you.." He tucked the bow back and drew the scimitar he had 'acquired' from some Alik'r warriors. Scimitar and shield ready he plunged into the darkness.

Smoke burned his lungs and stung his eyes as he tried to get his bearings. There, before him, the last shadowscale in Tamriel lay dead at the feet of two of the Penitus Oculatus agents. Without hesitation, the assassin struck them down.

Arnbjorn's wolf cry rang clear above the sound of fire and the clashing of steel. Dartagne sprinted towards the sound, stumbling twice as he made his way down the smoke shrouded stairway. He skidded to a stop as the main hall opened up before him. Arnbjorn towered in the center of the room, surrounded by bodies, as he delivered a killing blow to one of the last of his assailants. From behind him, ducking through the smoke and flames, a Penitus Oculatus agent plunged his sword into the great wolf's back before Dartagne could even react. The blow was instantly fatal and Dartagne thanked Mara for this as a battle cry leapt to his lips, "Stendarr have mercy on you for I SHALL GIVE YOU NONE!"

He charged head long into the remaining soldier. His scimitar was knocked out of his hand and he scrambled as claymore came crashing down towards him. Instinctively throwing up his shield, the claymore's blow was deflected.

Screaming with rage, Dartagne threw his shoulder into his shield and drove his opponent backwards causing the agent to stumble over Arnbjorn's body. Landing heavily on the man's chest, Dartagne took his shield in both hands and raised it above his head.

He didn't know how long he was there, smashing the man's head in with his shield - could've been ages for all he knew, but he was finally snapped out of his trance by the cry of a familiar red guard "FUCKING HELP ME ASSHOLE!"

"SHIT!" Dartagne, pivoted off the dead body, grabbed up his scimitar and ran through the smoke into the dining area. "Oh whatever, Nazir, you got this!" He panted as he sprinted to the redguard's side.

The leader of the detachment of soldiers, sweating, burning up in this smoke just like the rest of them, was now trying to fend off both assailants. Between the two of them he never stood a chance.

"Babette," Dartange panted, "Babette.. Where is she?" He feared the answer. Other than Arnbjorn, Nazir was the only living person he'd come across.

"Shit, she was here a second ago, I was trying to buy her time…" Nazir didn't finish the sentence.

"Go.. Find her, make sure she's safe, I got to… CRAP! The night mother!" He said remembering suddenly the old hag couldn't save herself.

A few days later…

The emptiness of the newly refurbished Dawnstar Sanctuary was a little overwhelming at times. He would purposefully take contracts and other dealings JUST to get out of the place.

Sure, it was still work, sure he had Nazir and Babette, and for some strange reason he'd spared that bumbling idiot Cicero, and yeah there were a few new recruits…

But here he was again. Outliving everyone he had grown to care about.

He sat at the table in the main hall of the new sanctuary, staring into a glass of wine and feeling sorry for himself. Across from him, Babette was busily sorting through a collection of spider's eggs mumbling to herself about their alchemical qualities.

"What's wrong Mr. Gloomy Gus?" she said at last, looking up at him with a fake pout.

"Sorry…" he sighed and looked wearily towards the ceiling, "I'm…just tired of outliving people I…" he winced and bit his lip, remembering exactly who he was talking to. "I'm sorry, Babette, that was careless of me…"

"It's ok", she smiled sorrowfully, trying to hide the hurt behind her burning red eyes. "I would've outlived most of them anyways but, yes, I know it hurts, Darty."

He smiled slightly at her nickname for him. Everyone else, Cicero, Nazir, everyone, in the sanctuary called him Listener, but not her. She was different. Special.

"I lost…" He paused, choking up slightly as he struggled to get the words out. "My folks, entire family was wiped out about twelve years back. I grew up in the orphanage in Riften. That's why I took that contract on that bitch Grelod the Kind."

There was a somber silence. "I never told anyone before why I did it." He stood up. "I should go."

A tiny hand grabbed his sleeve. This frail, young girl's hand and it stopped him as if it was Malacath's mighty arm itself.

"Please, sit. Don't let me make you uncomfortable."

"You don't make me uncomfortable Babette."

"Then what?"

"**I** make me uncomfortable," He sat back down, and started to refill his glass. He filled it about halfway and then stopped, set the glass down, gulped down its contents, tossed the glass over his shoulder and took a long swig from the bottle.

This made the un-child's lips spread into a fang-filled grin. She was something else, a woman trapped in a young girl's body. Her body hadn't matured sure but… she was a woman. Not a girl.

"So, Miss Babette, you planning on staying with us? Nazir and I already talked, he said he's staying and…"

He looked over towards where the night mother rested at the figure skulking over her. "I tried to get Cicero to leave but he just laughed and said 'you jest you jest!' then laughed it off," He sighed. "I should've just killed the little bastard when I had the chance."

Babette chuckled and took a drink of some berry-fruit concoction she'd made up, too sweet for any of the other 'younger' folk as she'd called them.

He'd asked her once if she'd snacked on any of the other members of the Dark Brotherhood. Her response had been, "no, you're all too sour for me." She may have been a three-hundred year-old vampire, but she still had the sweet tooth of a child.

His racing mind came to a sudden stop as that tender hand found his again. It was so small, a child's hand. Scarred, sundered by the heat, the weather of 300 years of toil, stained with the blood, sweat and tears of both her enemies and her friends. Splotched with the mixtures of poisons, remedies and other al-cha-me reagents.

He chuckled to himself and she cocked her head in questioning wonderment.

"I'm staying," she said with a smile. A sweet, earnest smile.

He peered into her eyes, and after a second she looked away, her face turning a bit flushed. "Stop, you're embarrassing me." She giggled.

"Sorry, you're just so… different and intriguing," He tried to convince himself more than her.

"You sure about that? That's why you stare?" She arched an eyebrow.

"No, I'm not sure," He finished off the bottle, then snapped his fingers and got the new recruit to come over and get him a new one.

"Do you drink? I mean.. you are 300, pretty sure its like waaayyy past the age limit for you," he said with a rather embarrassing giggle.

She shook her head. "Mead sometimes… but my taste buds never really matured either, they prefer sweet things. Refined things, like wine and such, are lost on me."

"You ever get sh..drunk?" He slurred a little then wiped his face and checked his reflection in a glass.

What was he doing? He didn't care about his appearance or what anyone thought about him. Unless it was her.

"_You're such a perv, Darty boy,_" his inner voice chided.

"I'm not a perv!" He shouted slamming his fist on the table.

She grinned, "I never said you were. You thinking about something?"

He shook his head and pushed the bottle away from himself.

"I've had too much. Might make a mistake," he hiccupped. "Can't make a mistake." He started to drift off.

"You mean like this?" she took his hand. An assassin's hand, but also the hand of a woodcutter, a butcher¾of animals and sentient beings alike. The hand of a lover, though it had been quite some time, and a farmer at one point in his life.

She bent down, her mouth lingering daringly close to his hand. He half-heartedly tried to pull away, but part of him wasn't really sure he actually wanted to.

"Don't…" He breathed, unsure of himself and what was happening.

"I wasn't going to bite you." She stated starting to back up.

He shook his head furiously, the way only a drunk man could, "No, I don't mind that." He patted her head with his other hand.

"You shouldn't sully yourself on me." He kissed her cheek then leaned back into the chair as he slid into sleepy darkness. "You're a good soul, Babette…"

As he fell asleep she felt her cheeks burn.

"Good… soul…" She was a killer, a maniac. A vampire. She took other people's lives and fed on those she deemed weaker and he dare call her a good soul?

She knew he cared for her but, that kiss on her cheek wasn't a kiss you give a child. He had lingered, as if to breathe in her scent. She shuddered, chilled despite the red flush blooming across her cheeks.

Sequestering herself safely in her room, she breathed a deep sigh as her mind raced. There was one thing that she hadn't told anyone. As a joke Gabriella had measured her height on the door jam of her bedroom. Only a couple months ago, not long after Dartagne had joined them, on a whim she'd measured herself again.

It had been nearly twenty years, but it was unmistakable. She'd grown. A whole inch. She'd confided in Gabriella about it and the Bosmer had done some investigating for her.

Unsurprisingly there hadn't been many other kids who'd been inducted as vampires but from what she could gather, those who got bitten just before or during puberty did still grow. They just grew extraordinarily slowly.

300 years, and her body had matured to that of a 12 year old, maybe older if she was a 'late bloomer.' In a few more centuries she might be a full fledged adult.

But, even if he were to live an extraordinarily long life…

Warm drops of water stained her hands. What were these? Since when did she cry? She didn't cry! She was a vampire! The storm outside of the Dawnstar Sanctuary, and the one inside the poor un-child's heart only continued to grow.

* * *

It had been five months since they'd moved to the new sanctuary. It had been four since his near confession of attraction to the child-vampire.

He loved her. He knew he did, but he knew shouldn't. One, she was undead. Two, she had the body of a child.

Even if he were to become a vampire as well, she'd still be unattainable. Not just because of social nuances either. The physical aspects of Babette were pre-pubescent, meaning, even if she accepted him as her lover he'd only hurt her physically. And mentally, when he'd pass on before she did. And to be trapped as a vampire with her, forever, sentenced to never even touch…

If it wasn't for the blasted Night mother he would've left the sanctuary all together. Just leave it, escape the torture. Shit, he might not have stopped at leaving Dawnstar, he might've just gone south west to Cyrodiil. Or maybe even flee across the ocean to Akavir.

But there was no escaping the calling and so he was stuck here. He pleaded with the night mother. But there was no reply, nothing, just contract after contract…

Maybe that's why she left.

At first she'd just taken more contracts, hunting more often. Then, about two weeks ago, she just stopped returning to the sanctuary.

Worried, he had organized a search for her, but even with all their combined efforts they turned up nothing.

Then, at long last their was word. She had waited for one of the recruits and had approached him. She gave him a message, to tell the Listener she was leaving. She didn't want to hurt him any further. And told him to live a good life, and maybe, if she was lucky, she'd see him in the next. Eventually.

He didn't know what to do with himself. Killing wasn't enjoyable, contracts were a chore, restless and lonely he moped around the sanctuary. Such a troublesome thing love. Whether it be the love of a young woman, the love a friend, the love of family, Or the love of a 300 year old vampire stuck in a child's body. It all hurt the same.

Trying to cheer him up, Nazir had made a trip to the Falkreath sanctuary looking for anything that might take his mind off Babette.

A few days later, the redguard returned and sprinted through the sanctuary until he found Dartagne laying dejectedly on his bed and staring up at the ceiling.

"Here," Nazir said tossing slightly burnt journal down on his stomach. "Read. Page 112, Paragraph 4 through 5."

"Who's…"

"Gabriella's."

"Why.."

"Just read it damnit!"

Thumbing through the pages he squinted at the paragraph Nazir had directed him to, "Today…Bla bla bla, 'unicorns'… And…Ok, 'Babette came to me and told me'…" He stopped reading out loud, stunned silence settling over him. It was there. Clear as day.

"No," He stated in pure disbelief.

"Yes," Nazir replied.

"Impossible." Dartagne all but shouted. "She would've-"

"Said something? No, you stupid, stupid fool. She wants you to be _happy_," Nazir paused with a sigh "Love is especially difficult for her. That's why she doesn't even want to try. That's why she ran away, and that's why." He was cut off by Dartagne's question.

"How long until she would be able to.. Grow up?"

"About another hundred years she'd start to be about as tall as her full height and according to Gabby's research… another hundred after that she'd be a fully grown adult."

"Why-" Dartagne wanted to know why she would've left without telling him. "Go after her you fool!" Nazir barked. "You love her don't you? Sure I admit it's a bit strange but, gods damn it, she's not a freaking child!"

Those words pierced him and something inside him shattered.

And off he rode.

He rode for several days, picking up a trail here, then losing it there. He eventually hired a former dawnguard tracker to find her.

Sure he was planning on paying the guy off to let her slip away, but luck would have it the guy got eaten by a troll just outside of Ivarstead. However, the man had served his purpose, and now he knew the whereabouts of the girl.

Outside of the cave he'd tracked her to, he lit a torch and, taking a deep breath he proceed into the darkness.

"Babette?" he called to her.

There was some scuffling, a scurrying sound as tiny feet made a break for somewhere to hide. He could sense her there, her presence. He smelled her hair and the perfume she didn't realize she wore, nightshade and lavender.

"Babette, I know about your condition. I know that you're growing." There was a muffled squeak and it sounded like she had lost her balance for a moment. "I don't know what you're going through. You thought that you'd forever be stuck one way but now you're slowly changing. If that's what made you run away then-"

"No," her tiny voice cut through the darkness at last.

"What?"

"No, I ran away because you were going to stay with me," she said with a gentle sob.

"Yes, but I would've stayed anyways. Whether you were growing or-"

"That's the point!" Her voice cracked. "You'll be dead before you can ever see me grow up, grow up to be the woman that I want to show you."

"Can't I choose how I want to live my life?" Dartagne allowed a flare of anger to color his words, though not intended towards her but perhaps at the gods above.

"Yes, but you'll only make yourself miserable and I would rather give up the rest of eternity than to see you miserable for another day." She moved into the torchlight. Her dress was torn, her pale skin shimmered in the flickering light, and her glowing burning eyes looked sad and full of…

Longing…

Dartagne's mind raced. He'd made a decision to do this, he wanted to do this. He approached her.

"I just don't, I don't have the words, Babette," He approached and reached for her hand. She hesitated, but eventually gave in and let him hold her hand in his.

"I.. don't care if the world burns around me,

"I will face it without fear.

"If the sun were to falter and the moons too,

"I may die - but die I'd rather,

"than live without you dear."

He paused, a common bard's song. Fitting.

She smirked. "You're one of the corniest badasses I know.." she wiped a tear from her cheek, but he held her hand back and kissed it away instead.

"I'm about to get cornier," he paused and looked into her eyes.

"Make me a vampire," He said earnestly, "Make me yours." He knelt before her, she shook her head.

She wanted to, she wanted him, she wanted to make him hers. "No, you're not thinking clearly. Even if I do this now, physically-"

"Babette," His eyes gleamed with affection. "I love you. I will always love you. And I will wait until you are ready.

"Whether it be a few weeks, a few years or hell even centuries," he grinned, spending time with her. Watching her grow. Taking care of her and having her take care of him.. It's all he truly wanted. "Please, just let me wait with you."

She couldn't think of anything. Her mind was blank, her eyes teared up and - there under the pale light of twin moons, she kissed him. First, firmly on the lips then, trembling, slowly, she made her way to his neck.

"Darty…I…"

"Please…Go ahead…"

Her mouth drooling, waiting for him and his taste. The mystery of what he'd taste like to her intriguing her and egging her onward - the sound of teeth puncturing skin and a wince from him, suddenly, crimson flow slowly dribbled down his neck.

"Oh…Dartagne…" She said with her mouth full as she sucked on his neck. "You're so sweet…."

He just grinned as he slowly slipped into her embrace. "I'm glad, Babette…" he sighed happily.

She broke from his neck, swallowing as much of him as she could before she locked lips again with his. The lingering taste of his own blood mixed with the taste of her young-like lips. "As am I Darty, As am I…"


End file.
